


Little Laramie

by Thalius



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Awkward Tension, Bad at communicating, Conflict Resolution, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Smoking, Stress Planning, Vanguard Duty, but like really awkward, leadership is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 16:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20342896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thalius/pseuds/Thalius
Summary: Andal and Cayde are both still figuring out this whole Vanguard business.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the LGBT Destiny Month on tumblr, but I was a bit late on finishing it. Here it is now!

He’d decided listening to fireteams die over comms was even worse than watching it play out in real time. At least if he was present at the massacre he could do something. At least he could see what was happening instead of filling in the gaps with whatever came to mind.

Lady forcibly shut down the line, then flared her shell up when he glared at her. “They are dead already,” she said fiercely, looking like a puffed up cat. “You do not need to listen to them die.”

He held out a hand for her, and she floated back down into it, slowly, deflating and settling in her shell. She rested right into his palm, and he rubbed a thumb over the plasteel of her rounded cogs, the muted engraved filigree pattern on them catching on his glove.

“I know,” he replied. 

“And listening to their deaths will not bring them back.”

“I know.”

“So please,” she insisted. “Stop self-flagellating.”

“It will happen to you a thousand times more, brother,” Saint said from across the table, far too loudly. “And it will not be your fault any of those times either.”

“Perhaps.”

Saint’s chest puffed up. “It is the truth! We guide, we do not shield. Ours is a different burden than that. They must learn to shield themselves.”

“Or strike faster,” Osiris said, giving equally unwanted advice, except his came with an ever-present air of superiority that was even less tolerable than Saint’s unwieldy enthusiasm.

Andal didn’t bother to argue with either of them. He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t much want to be anywhere at the moment, but leaving would mean he’d miss more new Guardians in need of aid and guidance and advice. 

He looked back to the maps sprawled out in front of him, trying to bury the ugly thing that was starting to crawl up his throat. The terminal beside him flashed once, twice, three times—an update on the status of the fireteam he’d been listening to. All snuffed out now. All gone.

He pulled out a half-smoked cigarillo from his pocket and rolled it between his teeth. He didn’t have Cayde around to Light it for him, and he’d always found channeling Solar exhausting, so he let it hang there unlit. The taste of cold tobacco filled his mouth. He’d ask Osiris for a hand if the man weren’t so adamantly against smoking in the Hall. 

But he couldn’t very well leave to collect the fireteam’s bodies and the shells of their Ghosts, or even step out to light a goddamn cigarette, so he stood there instead, fuming, sick of himself and sick of the Hall and sick of the outdated paper maps that were only good for rough predictions of patrol patterns and looking pretty. A whole year of Vanguard duty and already he felt another century’s worth of weight on his shoulders. He wondered if the overwhelming responsibility would turn him into an overbearing optimist, or if he’d follow Osiris’ path instead and end up a haughty curmudgeon. Neither sounded particularly appealing. He supposed that was why so many Hunter Vanguards jumped off the Tower into the Wilds, never to be seen again. He’d never felt such a strong kinship to Kauko until now.

Lady flew up and nestled into his hood, crooning softly so that only he could hear her. She buried herself into his hair, whispering calm things he didn’t quite catch but didn’t need to. He listened to her until something else required his attention—incoming salvage from loot runs, scout reports sent from the field, new Guardians appearing in the Tower that needed direction. More reasons to never leave his post.

* * *

He ventured as far as the lounge before collapsing onto a couch. The squeaky springs and deflated cushions indicated it was at least as old as he was, but he was too exhausted to move. If he got really uncomfortable, he’d just shoot himself in the head and tell Lady to revive him come the morning.

“I would be upset if you did that,” she whispered to him. He could hear her hovering over his head, the cogs of her tiny body clicking with worry.

“It’s fine,” he muttered into the couch arm. “I’ll fall asleep.”

He needed to. It had been three days, give or take, since he’d slept beyond a quick shut of the eyes at the Vanguard table, and he wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d slept on a soft, horizontal surface. He’d done longer stints before and probably could again, but not when he was responsible for so many other people. Surviving he could do while sleep-deprived; diligence and planning he could not. 

But he didn’t fall asleep. The Hunter’s barracks were dingy as places went, and the blinds over the lounge window did a horrible job of keeping the light out. He watched the stars move across the sky as he laid there, waiting to pass out. And while he waited, he thought about all the time he was wasting lying there, not updating the Fallen patrol pattern analysis he was doing for the scouting routes in Old Russia, not tending to the new crop of Guardians that came stumbling into the City that needed an incredible amount of guidance and reassurance, not meeting with the Last City Civilian Authority to mediate disputes between unruly Hunters and disgruntled citizens over damaged property. Not doing his job. Endless work that had fallen to the wayside ever since Kauko had disappeared, and simply catching up on that two-year backlog was an enormous endeavour. 

He hadn’t really taken off any of his gear beyond his belt, but his rifle was lying parallel on the ground beside him. He let his arm hang off the sofa, and his fingers brushed the barrel of the sniper.

“I told you how upset I would be if you did that,” Lady said. She was inside his hood again now, nestled beside his cheek. Her shell was soft, the edges of it smooth and round and warm. The presence of her there was comforting, but not enough to shut his mind off. 

“You did.”

“Worrying all night will only make you that much worse at your job in the morning.”

“A vote of confidence if I ever heard one.”

“You don’t need me to tell you how excellent you’re doing,” she replied. “But I shall remind you of that fact if there is any doubt in you.”

“I screwed up their patrol patterns,” he whispered, his throat getting thick. “The window I gave them was wrong.”

Lady pressed closer against his cheek. “They knew it was only a prediction.”

“And they died because of it.”

“Their inexperience killed them, not a faulty prediction.” 

His response was to let out a sigh. It must have sounded more defeated than he thought, because she keened into his ear. “Please, Andal, it’s okay—”

Lady’s eye twitched up suddenly, her shell going still as she watched the door of the barrack’s lounge. He followed her line of sight, and it opened soon after. 

Cayde slipped inside, completely unnoticed if not for turquoise glow of his eyes. Sundance hovered by his head, her eye immediately going not to Andal but to Lady. He felt his Ghost twitch in response, torn between warring loyalties.

Andal closed his eyes, hoping Cayde would either not notice him or simply walk by, but he did neither. Cayde saw Lady staring and stopped, then cleared his throat. 

“What are you doing?”

He could pretend to be asleep, he supposed. “I’ll give you one guess,” Andal muttered instead. 

“Never see you in here anymore.”

“‘Cause I’m not in here a lot.”

There was no response to that, which was the entire point of the comment. He could hear Cayde moving about, not settling anywhere but not moving with any sort of purpose either. He hoped he would just leave, go back to their old quarters with the rest of their fireteam and sleep long into the day so that Andal wouldn’t have to force out a diplomatic good morning to them in a few hours that they would ignore anyway. 

“Been wonderin’ why.”

Ah, so he was doing the opposite of that. Andal sighed into the couch again, too tired to be infuriated at how ridiculous the question was. Cayde knew damn well why. “I don’t want to have this conversation right now.”

“Why not?” He heard Cayde settle on something, like the armchair of a loveseat, maybe. 

“Because—”  _ I’m tired  _ was underselling it, he supposed.  _ It hurts to talk to you like this  _ was a bit dramatic on the other hand. “Because I killed three people today and I don’t have the energy for this,” he decided on finally. 

“He did not,” Lady cut in, floating up from his hood. “A fireteam died that he happened to give intel to.” She paused for a moment, clicking her shell again. “Please let him rest,” she added then, and this was directed at Sundance. A plea exchanged between Ghosts. “Leave him be.”

“Those deaths aren’t on you,” Cayde said, almost automatically. He sounded defensive, though Andal wasn’t sure what he was being defended from. “They those newbies that were hanging around you all the time?”

“Didn’t figure you noticed.”

“Haven’t been in the Hall much.”

“Been wonderin’ why,” he repeated back. The barb was weak, given that he was speaking into a couch cushion and was so tired his eyes throbbed swollen in their sockets. He didn’t care. Andal wasn’t interested in arbitrating their discussions for him anymore. Cayde could be his own diplomat if he so decided, but until then he would let the man sink under his own prideful inability to apologise for anything. If that meant this was how every conversation went with them from now on, then so be it. He had more important things to worry about.

He could feel Lady’s disapproval at both his behaviour and his thoughts, a tiny insistent pall of finger-wagging in the back of his mind. He ignored that, too, and pressed his face deeper into the dusty cushion.

Cayde still hadn’t said anything, and on instinct he opened his mouth, despite everything, to ease the cord of tension, to tell him it would be fine, because he could feel the man’s helplessness manifesting like a physical thing in the room. Resentment made the words stick in his throat, but he still managed to get out: “Go to bed, Cayde. We can talk about this some other time.”

He heard Cayde stand up from wherever he was sitting, and he stood there for a while. Andal never bothered to open his eyes, wishing he’d leave so that the heartsickness in his chest would go away and he could just fall the goddamn hell to sleep for a while. 

But then Cayde spoke, and he sounded like he used to, like before any of this was so unnecessarily complicated. His voice was soft, quiet, and images of warm honey light came unbidden to Andal beneath closed lids. “Come with me.”

He did open his eyes then, and found Cayde’s almost immediately. He could barely see the rest of his face, and under that protective cover of night he looked intensely vulnerable. 

“Please,” Andal replied, licking dry lips as he sat up on an elbow. “Don’t joke about that.”

“I’m not,” Cayde said, the words coming out before Andal had even finished speaking. He stepped forward then, his hand outstretched. An offering. “Come on. It’s shitty in here.”

“Shitty in the quarters too,” he joked tiredly, forcing himself to sit up. His back ached in protest from the movement, angry that he’d been laying in such an uncomfortable position for so long. He realised how weak he was then, how much rest he hadn’t gotten and still needed. He struggled to sit upright, shuffling his feet to kick his rifle away so that he could get proper footing, and then he felt hands under his arms, pulling him up with an ease he could only hope of regaining someday when he wasn’t so exhausted. 

Andal sagged into Cayde, mostly from exhaustion but also partly from a desire to do so, pressing his face into his pauldron, shivering at his warmth. Cayde was keeping his Light tightly restrained, but Andal was too tired and too unwilling to do the same. He felt the man shudder in response at the contact of soft violet Void that trickled out of him like a leaky faucet. Broken.

“You good?” Cayde’s voice sounded strained, though certainly not from holding Andal up.

“Not really.”

Cayde’s arms came up around his back then, holding him now instead of just supporting his weight. He pressed back, hands clutching his gear. He didn’t know why there was this sudden break between them, why Cayde had decided to stop treating him like some sort of traitor, and he wasn’t in a position to ask him right now.

What he wanted was to feel it all beneath his fingers, to root the memory of this so firmly in his mind it would never leave. He’d taken it all for granted before, like some sort of universal constant he had the pleasure of accessing. But constants were not cancelled out by Dares, and now he realised Cayde’s time and space were that much more precious. 

Cayde cleared his throat a few times before actually speaking, like he was deciding on what to say. “Let’s get back,” he eventually whispered to him, the light in his throat as soft as his voice. Maybe he was thinking about the same sorts of things.

“Okay,” he said back, then looked to the couch. “My gear—”

“I’ll get it.”

And he did. Cayde managed splendidly, slinging Andal’s rifle and belt on one shoulder and supporting him on the other. They stumbled back to their quarters together, and he watched their Ghosts twirl around in front of them, chatting quietly, excitedly. 

They didn’t really speak, but he liked that just fine. He concentrated on how close Cayde was, how easily he could just press into him whenever he pleased, the excuse of exhaustion a cover for keeping close. It made him lightheaded, but it also made Cayde’s task of carrying him that much more difficult.

But they got to their quarters eventually. Tevis was there, snoring and rolled up in his ratty old cloak, but otherwise the place was empty. 

“Shiro’s still out scouting,” Cayde whispered, seeing Andal look around the room for the others. “Lush took off. He’s worried about him.”

He tried to keep the stricken look off his face, but he knew Cayde saw it. “I didn’t know.”

“Don’t bother yourself over it. Got more important things to deal with.” He sounded defensive again.

Cayde walked them into the back half of their sleeping quarters. It wasn’t private, exactly, but at least some of Tevis’ snoring was muted by the extra wall in the way. Cayde set him down on a bed—Andal’s bed, his old bed, a bed he’d dreamed of sleeping in while he took naps in the Hall—and leaned his rifle against the wall with care. Cayde stripped off whatever of his own gear he didn’t enjoy sleeping in, then knelt down and grabbed one of Andal’s calves. He was about to ask when he saw him untie his boots and unfasten his shin guards. 

“Thanks,” he murmured. Lady and Sundance were still buzzing around the room, and he watched them with a faint smile. He knew how much Lady had missed her. “They’re sure happy,” he observed as Cayde moved to the other boot. 

Cayde hummed in agreement but didn’t say anything. He seemed to be mulling a lot over, so Andal let him be for the moment. It was so much work to stay angry at him, especially when he had him like this. No distant, cold standoffs, no pointed silences, no tossing maps away when Andal came into the room to hide what the crew was planning.

The warmth and the dark and the quiet must have made him doze off, because the next thing he was aware of was Cayde crawling onto the cot and tugging him down beside him. He responded with a surprised hum but didn’t resist the pull. 

“We’re sharing?” 

“That a problem?”

“No,” Andal replied. “Can’t remember the last time I slept here is all.”

Cayde’s shoulder jostled his as he settled into a comfortable position. “Neither can I.”

He smiled at that and closed his eyes. “Thanks. For the invite.”

“Seemed to be having a rough go of it.” Cayde jostled some more, trying to figure out where to put his hands.

Andal swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Don’t take that on,” Cayde said to him, his voice close now, right by his ear. Perhaps he’d turned his head to look at him, but Andal didn’t dare move. “People die no matter how well prepared they are.”

“I know.” 

He didn’t say the rest. There was no point. He was sure Cayde heard it anyway. 

He must have, because Cayde moved again, this time tugging at Andal’s shoulder, and he rolled with him, straight into his arms, and found the achingly familiar spot on his chest to rest his head. Cayde curled around him and threw his cloak over the both of them, and Andal let out his first real, ragged breath. 

He pressed his hand to Cayde’s chest, feeling the soft leather of his gear. He let his Light pour out of his fingers and felt an immediate response back—ozone touching smoke. It felt so good he had to bite back a sob, and Cayde’s arms tightened around him. 

“I can feel all the knots in your back,” Cayde murmured, palpating his fingers gently against his spine. “Knots plural.”

“That couch sucks.”

“Sleeping on the floor of the Hall sucks, too.”

“Slept in worse,” he replied, then groaned when he felt Cayde’s knuckles work up his back. “You have no idea how good that feels.”

“I do, actually.”

Andal laughed at that and felt up towards Cayde’s neck. He slipped his hand under his hood and grinned when he felt that the soft, sensitive strip of polymer of his spine was already exposed. Cayde gasped when he ran a finger along it.

“Suppose you do.”

They rocked gently on the bed as Cayde’s hand moved across his back. It could have almost been any other night, really. The resentment and the distance got more difficult to remember with each press of Cayde’s fingers along his spine. It wasn’t an apology, really, but it was a hell of a start.

“I missed you,” Cayde whispered, softly enough that they could both pretend it hadn’t been said.

Not much use to that though, he supposed. “You know where to find me,” Andal replied, but it wasn’t an accusation. “So come find me a bit more often.”

Cayde’s other hand worked its way under his hood and curled up into his hair. He was warm down to his bones now, and it was a monumental effort to stay awake. But a back rub and an  _ I miss you _ weren’t nearly enough to clear the slate, and Cayde was a proven flight risk.

“Come the morning,” he whispered. He needed to know. “How’s this gonna play out?”

Cayde was silent for a while. His fingers ran softly through Andal’s hair as the other pressed along his spine. In the quiet he could hear Lady and Sundance talking to each other, and he could feel his Ghost’s excitement at this sudden truce between their Guardians. It was almost enough to convince him to leave it be.

But Cayde still hadn’t said anything. He clenched his jaw. “If this is a one-off,” Andal whispered. “Because you’re feeling lonely, and we part ways in the morning, Just say so. I can—I can take that.” Not that he had much choice. He’d have to. “But I need to—”

Cayde’s hand wrapped around his bicep. He didn’t outright say shut-up, but the squeeze of his fingers was pretty clear. “Don’t think I could separate Sundance and Lady if I had a crowbar,” he finally said, and looked up. Andal forced his eyes open, pulling his face away from the man’s chest to see their Ghosts hanging above them, cogs interlocked as they wove lazily in the air. He could hear them speaking to each other, soft whispers so quiet they could be the wind. Lover’s talk that their Guardians were too obstinate to give into.

“Don’t think I’d want you to,” Andal replied. 

“It’ll be weird still, probably,” Cayde answered then, unusually candid. “But it’ll be fine.”

“I can deal with that, too,” he whispered, settling his cheek back against Cayde’s chest. He ran his thumb along Cayde’s spine again and grinned at the shudder he gave in response. 

“Go to sleep,” Cayde whispered. All of him was emanating a soft warmth; a gentle, constant pulse of Light that was entirely for the benefit of a bed companion that couldn’t consciously regulate their own body temperature. “It’s alright. It’s not morning yet.”

The thought of closing his eyes and waking up to an empty bed or worse, a cold shoulder, scared him, but he couldn’t physically stay awake any longer. So he let Cayde soothe him instead, let them both pretend this wasn’t a crack in a nearly year-long standoff for who could outdo the other in the Feeling Betrayed department, and finally fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Cayde wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that Andal wasn’t there when he woke. Tevis wasn’t either, apparently, because he couldn’t hear the idiot snoring. Cayde looked up instead, and found Sundance still hanging there, except now she wasn’t glued to Lady and was staring back at him. Judgingly.

He rolled up into a sitting position, ignoring her. His sleep had been fitful, but that was due to being unaccustomed to having a sleeping partner rather than the usual Deep Dreams that woke him in the night. 

“When’d he take off?” Cayde asked, leaning onto his knees to stretch his back. The plates were stiff, especially along his spine from their opening last night. Another thing he’d become unaccustomed to. 

_ “They _ took off a few hours ago,” Sundance replied. Her emphasis on the plural made him look up. 

“Yeah, I know.”

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I said I know.”

He stood up and put his gear back on. Andal’s rifle was gone too. Completely unnecessary for his station in the Hall, but also completely understandable. Hunters were Risen to be ready for a fight, no matter how unlikely.

As he looped his belt back on and rearranged its pouches, he noticed something on the bed. A tiny half-smoked roll of tobacco was a dark smudge on the sheets, a crumpled and accidental forget-me-not. He picked it up, grinning to himself. Andal hadn’t stopped smoking those tiny cigarillos of his, apparently. And neither had he stopped keeping them stashed in his pockets for whenever he needed a few drags. Cayde tucked it carefully into a pouch at his belt.

“Gonna give that back?” Sundance asked, watching him. He could hear the eagerness in her voice.

He looked at her. “Suppose I should.”

“Good of an excuse as any to go talk to him.”

“If he’s still in the mood to talk.” Cayde headed for the door of their quarters, pulling his hood back up over his head.

“Oh, I bet he is.” 

“He say anything to you?”

“About you specifically or just in general?”

He glared at Sundance, who was floating backwards to look at him. Apparently she wasn’t done with the judgmental staring.

“The more you give me to work with the easier this is going to be,” he told her.

“If you just say sorry then it’ll be eveeeen easier.”

He didn’t respond to that until they were clear of the Hunter’s barracks. He had no intention of letting anyone overhear this conversation. 

“It's a bit more complicated than that,” he finally hissed, swiping at her to stop buzzing around in front of him. She didn’t.

“You’re right. Shiro and Lush and Tevis owe him an apology, too.”

“He’s the one who—” He stopped, both walking and speaking, and glared at his Ghost with renewed anger. 

“Who upheld his vow,” Sundance finished for him. “Like anyone with any shred of honour would do. Including you.”

“Doesn’t mean he had to turn into a bureaucrat.” 

“Perhaps if you asked him he’d explain that particular bit of character growth.”

“I don’t—I don’t want to have this argument.” He started walking again, angry now. Maybe he wouldn’t go to the Hall.

“And I don’t want to lose a friend,” Sundance replied. She had the grace to float beside his head now, at least. “Friends, plural. I like Andal. I like his Ghost even more.”

“Never said you couldn’t stop talking to Lady.”

“You’re a fool if you think that’s the reason. Where are you going?”

“Hangar.”

“You—” Sundance puffed away, then reappeared in front of him, so close he had to stop in his tracks to keep from running into her. “You do not get to sulk. You do not get to destroy the bridge you just made with him last night. Your pride is not the only thing at stake in this!”

There was a tiny tremor in her voice, almost like fear. It was enough to make him think before he opened his mouth to respond. “I don’t know how to solve this,” he said to her. It sounded like a confession, and he was glad no one was around to hear it but her.

“You do,” she whispered, pleading with him now. “I know you do. You hand him that little Laramie roll in your pocket. You don’t know how badly he wants to forgive you.”

“Is that what he said to you?”

“Lady told me,” she said. “But it’s more than obvious.”

“Then what did he say?”

“He told me to wish you a good morning.” 

* * *

It had been a while since he’d seen the Hall of the Vanguard. Two years of that time were simply because Kauko had up and disappeared, and he’d eat Hive worms before he got scouting intel from a Warlock or Titan. He’d visited in the beginning months when Andal took over, but that had dropped off pretty quickly.

Not much had changed. The table looked a hell of a lot cleaner, probably because of Andal. And it was more crowded than he remembered. 

He ventured slowly down the steps, ignoring Shaxx, ignoring other Guardians looking at him. Neither Saint and Osiris acknowledged him, though that wasn’t surprising. They were both busy with their own planning, their own class of Guardians to tend to. 

He saw Andal talking with a group. Cayde hung back, eavesdropping but not engaging. They were discussing salvaging in the Mothyards. Small-time game, so he quickly tuned out, focusing on the sound of Andal’s voice instead. He was offering a great deal of advice, some of the same he’d give to their own crew. Cayde kept up a nonchalant appearance by poking around the terminals that stood near the Vanguard table, clicking on random scouting packets and pretending to read them.

At some point Brask noticed Cayde’s loitering. His mouth twitched in recognition, but he didn’t interrupt the young Hunter speaking to him. 

“It’s risky,” the woman said. “There’s limited entrances to the factory. If they overwhelm us, they could—”

“Run distraction outside then,” Cayde cut in, getting impatient at listening to their catastrophising over plans, and she turned to look at him. “Like a kilometre or so away. One or two of you on sparrows.”

“On an open field?” another Hunter asked. “They’ll hit us from the air in no time.”

They were quite young then, still afraid of dying. Cayde grinned. “Then drive faster than they can shoot.”

“You’ll do well,” Andal said to them. They turned back to him with frowns. “Scrub if you feel it’s too much, but—do your best. Keep your comms open, give specific instructions, know what each of you are responsible for, work together. You’ll figure it out.”

They lingered for a few more minutes, repeating questions they’d already asked Andal a few times. It annoyed the hell out of Cayde, because the longer he stayed the more doubt festered in his chest, but he didn’t butt in again. 

When they finally left, Andal turned to him, making his insides seize up. He still looked exhausted, still looked older than he had a right to, but he was smiling, teeth flashing white beneath the dark scruff on his face. Lady hung beside him, her white shell with its soft edges and muted filigree patterns and her lone, bright eye that always seemed a little sad to him. Sundance chittered above his shoulder.

“A happy surprise to see you here,” he said, stepping away from the table and towards Cayde. He spoke softly, which wasn’t out of the norm for him, but it wasn’t anywhere close to private. “And timely. I have something to tell you. Just not here.” 

Cayde had no time to respond to that. He nodded towards the Hall’s exit for Cayde to follow him, and began walking with a purpose that brooked no argument. “Tell any scouts to wait here,” Andal said to Saint as Cayde fell into line behind him. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Of course, brother.”

His walk into the Hall had seemed long, but now there wasn’t nearly enough floor space between them and wherever Andal was leading them. Every step up the stairs made Cayde more nervous. He watched their Ghosts whiz around together in front of them, unburdened by the same reservations their Guardians carried. It made him jealous in ways he couldn’t put a name to. 

They reached the top of the entrance and Andal guided them further away still, to the cherry blossom tree. Its branches were heavy with buds, and the sweet smell of the ones that had already dropped burst upwards with each step they took beneath it. 

“Andal,” Cayde began when they stopped, hating that his voice was shaky already. The man turned to him, a smile still on his lips, and that did nothing to calm his nerves. “I don’t—”

“Here,” Andal said, pulling a small square out from his pocket and offering it to Cayde. He immediately shut up and held out his hand, letting the thing drop into his palm.

“What… is this?”

“Intel packet,” Andal said, stepping closer to whisper. The smell of him made it difficult to focus. “For a drop near Old Chicago. One of my scouts picked it up. A stash of Golden Age tech, if the crew’s still interested in that sort of thing. If you’re not, I can pass it onto the next—”

“Oh.” Cayde looked down at the tiny metal square in his palm. He cleared his throat. “I am. We are, yeah.”

“Patrol patterns are pretty thick in that area,” Andal continued. “Top-heavy, too. Lots of captains. House Devils, mostly, so they have ordinance, but they seem to be squabbling a lot. Could be an advantage, could be chaos when you get there. Just—well, just take a look at that.”

“Thanks,” Cayde said, and tucked it away for safe-keeping. He didn’t know what else to say.

Andal leaned against the tree, watching him. 

“Just save me a slice of whatever you find, yeah?” he added dryly.

Cayde shuffled his feet, not quite looking down at his boots. “Of course.”

Andal raised a brow at the curt response. “Is that an issue?”

“No. This is just a surprise, that’s all.”

He grinned. “What? You think I dragged you up here to hash out our dirty laundry instead?”

“Yes,” Cayde replied, feeling stupid. 

“We can do that later. More important shit to deal with. Like looting.”

Cayde allowed himself to laugh at that. Then he grabbed for his belt. “Got something to give you too, as it happens.”

“Oh?”

He pulled out the cigarillo butt and then flicked it at Andal, who caught it out of the air. He laughed as soon as he saw what it was. “Ah! Thought I lost this one.”

“Left it on the bed.”

Andal’s lips twitched as he stuck the roll between his teeth. “Thanks.”

Cayde offered an ember on the tip of his finger, and Andal leaned over to catch the butt on it. It lit with a puff, releasing the smell of tobacco and cherry into the air, mingling with the blossoms. It was as familiar as the back of his hand. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed the smell.

“That why you came down into the Hall today?” Andal took a long drag, and the end flared orange. 

“Part of it, I think.”

“You think.”

“I bullied him a little,” Sundance interrupted, floating over from her conversation with Lady. She sounded quite proud about it. “He’s here under some duress.”

“Well I’m glad, whatever the case,” Andal said, looking back to Cayde. His insides seized up again, this time for an entirely different reason. “You hear back from Shiro at all yet?”

“No, but that’s normal. You know how he is.”

“Yeah.” Andal sighed. “What about the rest? Tevis looks the same as he used to.”

It was a weird feeling, having Andal ask him about their own fireteam. It was weird having Andal ask him about anything, really. Being a wealth of information for him was a new position Cayde wasn’t sure how to process, so he resolved not to. 

“Pretty much the same, I guess. Been doing a lot of runs deeper into Russia, past the Urals. Patrols are spotty out there.” 

“You log where you spotted them?”

“You want a copy, I’m assuming.”

“That is my job now.”

“It is.” He looked at the ground and saw all the rotting blossom buds in the grass. They stained everything a faint pink. “Andal—”

“Don’t start this here,” he interrupted, and Cayde gladly shut up. “Not enough time. Not enough privacy.” Another drag on his roll. “I’ll find a day sometime to talk proper if you’re interested.”

“I am.”

“Good.” He let the smoke drift slowly out of his mouth as he spoke. “I’ll figure something out. Been pretty busy.”

“And you look tired as all hell,” Cayde said, but the words were concerned, not biting. “More than usual.”

“Been a rough few months. Been rougher without you,” he added, giving him a wry smile. “Last night was the best sleep I’ve had in ages.”

“Same here.”

He didn’t mean for everything to come out so strained. Words used to flow so easy with Andal. And they did still, he thought, just—differently now. 

“You’re welcome to settle in again tonight,” he offered, and Brask’s smile could’ve outshone the sun. 

“Can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that,” he said. He had no right to look as good as he did leaning against the tree, smiling and speaking softly and looking at him with warm dark eyes. 

“Maybe we can talk then,” Cayde said tentatively. It wasn’t quite an apology, but it was close, he thought. Close enough that he hoped Andal understood.

“No promises,” he said, chewing on the tip of his cigarillo. “May not be able to get away.”

“They really keep you that busy?”

“When the Vanguard’s lucky enough to have a Hunter advisor, they make good use of him.” He stood up from the tree with another sigh that sounded ancient. “Which is why I should head back.”

He didn’t know why that felt like a rejection. It wasn’t, he knew. But it felt like one.

“Thanks for this,” Andal said, waving his cigarillo, looking like he wanted to slap him on the shoulder or, even more bizarrely, shake his hand. He stuck his free hand in his pocket instead. “Haven’t had one in ages. Osiris loses his shit whenever I light one.”

“I see that guy burn incense all the time,” Cayde protested, hoping he could keep him around for a moment longer. 

Andal shrugged. “He’s a jackass whether he’s consistent about it or not. I’ve given up fighting with him.”

Cayde shook his head. “Maybe it’s time to shove tobacco in the air ducts.”

“If I had that much I would, believe me.” He snuffed the orange end out on his glove and then tucked the rest of the cigarillo in his pocket. “I really gotta get going.”

“You’re gonna burn another hole in your pocket doing that.”

“Cayde.”

“Yeah, sorry. Busy man, all that.”

The last part sounded a touch too petulant, and Andal obviously heard it, because his mouth twisted up. “I’d love nothing more than to head back into the barracks and sleep the day away with you, believe me. But I agreed to this, so I gotta see it through.”

“I know.” He looked away, down at the ground. “It’s alright.”

“I’m glad you approve,” Andal said jokingly. Then he touched Cayde’s arm, a simple, brief contact that was gone too soon, making him look up. “I’ll see you around.”

That sounded almost like a question. “Yeah, you will,” Cayde replied. 

Brask beamed once more at him, looking again like he wanted to do more, but then he stepped away and turned back toward the entrance to the Hall, and to Cayde’s disappointment he didn’t look back over his shoulder.

Cayde touched his bicep where Andal’s fingers had been, inhaling the smell of cherry smoke still lingering in the air.

“I told you,” Sundance said beside him.

“I know,” he replied.


End file.
